Tokyo's wild side: Harajuku

Feb. 18, 2007

Updated Aug. 21, 2013 1:17 p.m.

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FASHIONISTA: This "gothic Lolita" in a fur-collared jacket drew a lot of attention from onlookers. Most of the dressed-up youngsters in Harajuku are willing to pose for non-Japanese tourists. ELLYN PAK, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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ADDED ATTENTION: The district's narrow alleys are filled with fashion boutiques. The area has been popularized by rocker Gwen Stefani, who has used "Harajuku Girls" as backup dancers.

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HISTORIC HANGOUT: A view from the bridge near Harajuku Station includes Yoyogi Park and an area where teens like to gather. Yoyogi Park sits at the site of the 1964 Summer Olympics, and the distinctive Olympic buildings designed by Kenzo Tange are nearby.

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A TREND: This teen is one of several girls in Harajuku whose outfit played into a "gothic Lolita" theme.

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PLENTY OF FLAIR: This girl is seemingly wearing enough accessories to start her own boutique.

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GENDER BENDER: The street-fashion scene draws all kinds, including this man dressed as a schoolgirl.

FASHIONISTA: This "gothic Lolita" in a fur-collared jacket drew a lot of attention from onlookers. Most of the dressed-up youngsters in Harajuku are willing to pose for non-Japanese tourists. ELLYN PAK, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

CHECKLIST

JUST ASK THEM, CLICK ON IT: Japan National Tourist Organization, 213-623-1952 or www.jnto.go.jp/eng.

COMING ATTRACTION: Chronicle Books will release "Japanese Schoolgirl Inferno," by Patrick Macias and Izumi Evers, in June. The book will chronicle the "Tokyo teen fashion subculture."

I can't help but stare.

The young girls look like Kewpie dolls with enough plastic barrettes and bracelets to fill an accessory store. A man adjusts the hem of his schoolgirl costume, leaning back slightly to stop a wig from sliding down his forehead. Teens with spiky, platinum blond hair and faux tans huddle among themselves.

And they all stare back at me.

I am the oddball, misplaced in a world where ruffled tulle skirts, blue hair and hot-pink fishnet stockings are the norm. Couture mixed with clothes you can find in a Salvation Army store. Wannabe rockers scream their demo tape tunes outside a nearby train station.

I feel self-conscious of my plain jeans and T-shirt. I have stepped into a manga comic book, and I am the least cool character.

I'm in Harajuku, a district in Tokyo known for its street fashion, boutiques, and freaks that congregate daily to express their disdain for the mundane.

My 10-day itinerary of Japan includes Harajuku, which in the past few years became popularized by Orange County's rocker princess, Gwen Stefani, who drew inspiration from the district's denizens.

The Harajuku experience lives up to its a la mode image: overwhelming, bizarre and fascinating.

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The subway ride into Harajuku is not far from my hotel in Akasaka, a business district with corporate offices and hotels.

My travel companions Julie and Jason are zipping through the trip like hummingbirds looking for the next bit of nectar, and I feel bad for slowing them down.

On the train, I catch myself ogling the young people.

The girls are immaculate, with pearly white skin and manicured nails. Louis Vuitton purses dangle from their tiny wrists. Their legs are as thin as the YanYan chocolate sticks sold at corner markets.

Some of the men are just as pretty. Their eyebrows are waxed to perfection, their bodies are slender and their business suits unwrinkled.

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But as we approach Harajuku, the fashion becomes more and more bizarre. The locals seem to be disinterested, but I'm fascinated that the images I've seen in magazines and books have come to life.

Street fashion exists everywhere, from Los Angeles' rocker chic to New York's inner-city style. I've seen people dressed up in alien and Elmo costumes on Hollywood Boulevard, and I've seen drag queen stiletto races in Washington, D.C.

But the Harajuku scene is far from what I've experienced.

We head toward Omotesando Dori, a landscaped, cafe-lined boulevard often referred to as Japan's Champs-Élysées.

There's really no room to stroll, but we want to find cheap food and souvenirs.

We weave through the crowd and duck into several stores to marvel at the overpriced clothes and trendy boutiques. We have better luck walking through the alleyways flanking the promenade.

The smell of crepes topped with strawberries and chocolate tempt us, but we move on to find an affordable restaurant.

After gobbling up food at a Thai restaurant and vowing to find Kyushu Jangara, a popular ramen-noodle joint, we spend some time at the Oriental Bazaar for handmade souvenirs.

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I'm itching to go back to the train station where all of the wacky people are hanging out.

When we get there, we snap photos of the dozens of teens. They are separated into smaller groups, squatting on the ground and talking to each other quietly with their backs turned away from us.

Some look like they are dressed up for a "Star Wars" convention, with handmade metallic costumes and face paint. Several girls, playing into a "gothic Lolita" theme, are clad in schoolgirl outfits with dark makeup.

A few are camera shy and refuse to turn around to greet the onlookers. Others ignore us and take photos of each other, admiring their own costumes. But most are willing to pose for the non-Japanese tourists.

"Hai, hai," she says almost inaudibly, grabbing her fur collar and posing for a few seconds. She bows and scurries away.

I'm also drawn to several girls who look like poster children for Sanrio. They are wearing pink, short skirts and dozens of necklaces and bracelets. They flash peace signs and giggle like fourth-graders.

They look like the girls that Austin Powers couldn't resist, a pair of Japanese twins, both caricatures of the kawaii, or cute, Harajuku girls.

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I want to stay longer and talk to them, but the language barrier prevents me from doing anything except bow with effusive arigatos. And Julie and Jason are anxious to check out the Meiji Jingu Shrine, just a mile away from where the teens gather.

I wonder where the teens live, if they hide their costumes in their lockers and put them on after school. Are they simply expressing their individuality or rebelling against convention?

I don't think I'll ever quite understand this subculture or embrace blue stockings, yellow stilettos and leg warmers. But I vow to return and marvel at the teens' creativity.

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